Those Days Off
by Flusion
Summary: He became champion, but nothing could stop his wanderlust.


When he first became champion there hadn't been much business and he he could afford to leave his throne for extended periods of time. He would leave it to the elite four to deal with any and everyone while he took to exploring the furthest reaches of the Alolan archipelago. He soon took to spending time in the fields and forests of Poni island. The place was just so natural and rustic compared to the rest of the region, even though most of the region was laid claim to by nature, Poni was the only one that felt dangerous and exciting.

It was unexplored territory for him. It was raw and beautiful. The land was virgin and pure. Little example of human life could be found once one strayed from the path. He especially loved to spend hours walking among the flowered trees and aroma filled fields.

Sometimes he would begin to itch for a challenge and he would head back to the league or make a short foray to the gauntlet. More tough trainers could be fought near the gauntlet than in champion battles. On those days he would spend hours battling trainers until he was almost to exhausted to move, and he couldn't imagine how tired his pokemon were, given that they, who loved to battle, had spent their day doing just that.

One day during his wanderings he came to find a young woman. She was someone whom he had met before, a painter while on his island challenge. She had gifted to him a Fairium Z for no noticeable reason. She had not wanted to battle, and had even shooed him away. The second he had left her, he had looked back to see her painting.

That was how he found her on that day. She sat in the flowers drawing sketches and painting in the details. Across her face was one long splatter of paint, going right beneath her eyes. Her blonde hair was coated in a furious arrangement of colors, and her clothing was tie-dyed in paint. So much paint had gotten onto her jeans that they appeared a shade of aquamarine.

He had approached her, but she failed to heed to his presence. She was far to engrossed in her project. On a small canvas she was painting a lilligant dancing among the meadow fields of flowers. The painting, as it stood in that moment, had captured in him a sense of peace and joy.

"Good afternoon," he said.

But there was no response. The woman carefully; diligently, and ever so softly laid her brush across the canvas, crafting a curving green streak of color similar to that of a rainbow into the petal dress of the lilligant. She was skillful, and artful, and tasteful with her painting.

"Good afternoon," he said, louder that time.

"Hmm?" she didn't stop painting, not for one second.

The young woman dipped her brush into a pallet of green again and began to mold streaks of green shading into the canvas. Masterfully her delicate hands moved the brush.

Her clothing had the well worn quality often associated with a traveler under the paint stains.

Her eyes had a quiet and humbly blank look about them. She seemed as if in a trance, not really seeing the world for what it was, but only her work. Her skillful arms guided the brush in deep green strokes across her work.

"Did you want something?" she had asked.

"I only wished to see what you were creating. I was curious about your work," he said.

She continued with her work a while. She started on the lilligant's eyes, adding a layer of color over the black soullessness of it. He could see that she leaned in very close in order to see her work, nearly painting her own eye as she focused on the eye of the lilligant.

"Is that so?" she finally said.

He suddenly became very aware of the powerful fragrance of flowers all about the place. It was not much of a surprise, considering that he was sitting in a field of colorful flowers. They ranged in a massive variety of colors, though many of them were a gentle purple lavender. The soft pallet of colors was pleasing to the eye, and a major part of the reason that he had started to come to this meadow to relax for hours and days.

"I'm painting a lilligant," she said, yet again some time after her other response.

She took time in between every slow and controlled stroke of her brush to say something or anything.

"Yeah I see. It is quite a good painting," he said.

That was the end of their conversation for the day. His league pager beeped to show that a challenger was on the fourth member of the elite four. He would have to go back to the league for the time being. There was a small group of trainers there, and it would likely take them some days to filter the challengers out.

"Well I have to go I might see you again sometime," he said.

"mhmm."

He couldn't stand to be at the league. It was so secluded from the rest of the world. It was rare for there to be anyone at the top of the mountain except for the cook and the elite four. Even he, as the champion, stayed away from the place. It was lonely and desolate.

Even if he only traded one lonely place for another he didn't feel lonely in the fields of Poni island. He was alone most of the time; yes, but he never felt lonely while exploring the deep and wonder filled wilderness.

On that day he was out exploring the same area he had one week before. The same patch of flowers where he had met the painter girl again. She wasn't there that time. At least- she wasn't in the same patch of flowers. She was on the other side of the path; sitting in a different space of flowers.

She was doing the exact same thing he caught her doing when he first met her again. She was painting a picture, staring at nothing in particular. In the trees above he could hear oricorio singing. The leaves rustled as they danced about.

He approached her, making sure to make some noise as to not startle her. He kicked the flowers aside, attempting not to damage their beauty.

"Good night. How are you tonight?" he said.

"Oh it's you again. It's," she paused for a moment as she added a few more colors to her painting, "you again huh. I haven't seen you around here for a little while," she said.

"Have you been out here this entire time? Since I left you last week?" he said.

He watched her face as she thought about his words and continued to paint. Her soft droopy features rose and fell with a long strike across the canvas. Along with her eyes, her long and thin eyebrows did a small wave up and down. Her hair flutter backward slightly revealing her ears to the open air.

"Hmm? Yes I believe so. I have been camping out just inside the forest for some time now...," she dipped her brush into the her pallet of paint, "it makes it easier to be out here, where I can paint _nearly_ undisturbed," she breathed.

He squinted at her, "is that so?"

She didn't look to be annoyed at him. She continued to paint, sliding her brush along the canvas in a soft and controlled manner. From his position he could hear the gentle scraping sounds of the brush against the canvas. It was like a very soft shhh shhh sound.

In the two paintings he had seen her do, he could glean some information about her. The colors were all light and quietly cheerful. There was nothing exciting or particularly sweeping about her art. She made the creations of color to be peaceful. Her art could be, at most, described as like a calm pond in the morning, just after the sun has risen and shone its light upon the world.

It is gentle and still, as well as calm and unassuming. These were the feelings that he got when he looked at her art.

At that point, he decided it was best for him to sit down. By virtue of his momentum though, he fell all the way until he was laying down and looking up at the sky through the colorful trees and tall flowers. From his position he had a good look at the painter's face.

She spared a simple second to glance his way as he looked up at her, before moving back to her work. He noticed that she still had the exact same smears of paint on her face as before, only now she had more. The entire right side of her face was nearly coated in the paint, and he still had yet to know as to why she was covered in paint, given her gentle and smoothly careful motions.

Regardless to what paint covered her body, he was beginning to believe that the pink strip crossing her nose and under her eyes was something a little bit more permanent. It was an alluring part of her body, and it kept attracting his attention as he looked at her. Of course, she paid no heed to his nonverbal musings.

As he sat there and took turns looking at her, and the sky, and their mural of beautiful surroundings, she continues to paint. All night long she squinted at the painting and gave the canvas life.

Being of Alolan descent, she no doubt has a clear view of what she was painting, but to him, her art looked like a simple collage of shapes. He could only tell the outline of the portrait, but it looked to be a tree, or perhaps a shiinotic. He felt that he was doing good to even see the outline of what she was doing.

After some time of just laying there, he did not know what had possessed him to stay there for so long, he asked her, "What are you drawing?"

Immediately, with no time for him to wait, she responded.

"It's just a tree," she pointed to a tree at the edge of the flower field, "that one to be specific."

"Oh."

he had sat up to try and get a better look at the tree, which he could make out a little bit better in the moonlight than the painting. It was a tree of thick girth. The dark bark of its trunk stretched up for some distance, and its many branches quivered with every passing breeze as its leaves caught the wind.

He laid himself back down and looked back up at the night sky. The moon was brighter in Alola than any other region he had visited. The stars seemed like dim pinpricks of light in comparison, as if the moon was the only thing in the sky. It swallowed all light except its own. Slowly the great moon fell to the bottom of the sky and an orange light began to replace it.

The sun's great beams of energy overpowered the moon's soothing and care-giving light. Soon the moon was all but a memory in place of the fiery ball of light and heat.

He fell asleep laying there next to the painter girl.

He started to visit her more often. When he could find her he would spend the entire night just lying next to her under the moonlight of Lunala. However, he couldn't always find her in the meadows and fields of Poni island. Some days during his wanderings, she wasn't there, and had retreated to wherever it was she actually lived.

Slowly she began to speak more to him. He learned many things about her, about how she lived, where she lived, what she liked and disliked. He learned many things about her and noticed a few more as he spent time with her. For example, he noticed when she was stumped for inspiration with her art she would clack her fingernail against the brush handle, or the tip of the handle against her teeth. Sometimes she would stop and lay her canvas on the ground where she would proceed to stretch out her body and arms.

Every once in awhile they would go for long and extended walks in the meadows under the trees. A small patch of morelull would light up as they passed by on occasion. She would sometimes stop all of her work put down her brush and simply stand up. It was on nights like those that he would walk with her in the forest among the flowers.

Sometimes she would stand up far to fast after having sat and painted for too long. He would catch her as she wobbled and hold her steady for a second.

On a night that they decided to take a walk instead of paint, she decided to take a different path and he followed her. All the way up the cliff path and into the branches of a larger tree with limbs thick enough to hold ten of him across.

Overlooking the meadow they stood there taking in the view. On that night he had grasped her delicate fingers into his own and was content. Soon after he had done that however she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his chest. He turned and pulled her into him holding her in both his arms as her head rested on his chest. He placed his head over her shoulder.

They just sat there holding each other. To any unlikely passersby they may have looked odd. Maybe even awkward, but there was nobody there to see them. For a long while they sat there and held each other in their arms breathing in the night air.

It was not long after that night that it became necessary for him to take longer stays at the league. Many challengers who had heard of the creation of the Alola league had began to complete their island challenges. He, as a champion became more popular and well known.

Whenever he walked through a city many people who used to greet him in a friendly and familial way started to look at him with a different air. The people's respect for him grew as many people from all over the world came to take the island challenge. It was no longer a native tradition, but a thriving tourist business.

People who came to battle him were amazed at the different challenges they had faced here compared to many other places in the world. Some people who were nonetheless outstanding trainers simply could not complete the trials as they consisted of far more than simple battles.

It came to the time when he could not longer spare many long moments away from the league to do anything. It was harder to go and visit her. He also had obligations and desires to meet with old friends and his mother as well. He wasn't able to always use his free day when he had it to visit her.

The constant business was beginning to tire him out. He loved the battling, and he loved interacting with the world's topmost trainers, but he wasn't able to do the thing he cherished above all else. He wasn't able to get away from the league. He couldn't travel or explore very often anymore. He couldn't spend time with her any more.

He could recall on time specifically, when he was host to a contest of champions. Seeing as he had gained in popularity as a region leader, the most recent meeting of world leaders both present and former was to be held at Mount Lanakila. What had originally been a simply battling stadium fit to hold at most a few hundred people was repurposed. His battle stadium was crafted into a grand facility seating one hundred thousand people.

When it came time for the exhibition matches between champions to begin, he invited his friends and family to see it live. They got to view and from a special sky box made at his request. Even her, the painter girl, came to see him compete in the battle of champions. She had brought a small drawing pad with her and she sketched the entire day, but he knew that she stopped and paid careful attention during the times when he would battle.

After the battle of champions he could spare no second and was cut off from the world save his challengers for a long month. The waiting list to challenge the champion was long, extensive, and highly decorated with trainers who wanted to test their metal against his own. Out of these clashes he could only grow stronger.

After a long month with the waiting list have no end in sight, he grew tired. The professor had shown up and stopped the entire proceeding set of battles. For one week he postponed the waiting list, "In Order To Give The Champion a Much Needed Break."

Immediately the champion left and fled from the mountain. He traveled to Poni island and to the meadows where he knew she would be there painting the nights away as gentle and calm as ever.

Charizard touched down in a small clearing outside of the meadows. He hopped off and did his best to not run and try to find her. Calmly he stepped into the empty meadows of flowers and grass. Mostly empty that is, as a lone painter girls stood with a brush in her hand and painted a picture.

She was using a deep blossoming set of colors he had not seen her create with ever. Her canvas was covered in crimson red and deep pink hues. She added purple and orange into the random mix of colors. Green, blue, and black. The different colors were splattered about the painting, but in the center it was fully red and pink. No other colors touched the center of the canvas.

He saw her delicate frame and gravitated towards it. The gentle crushing and swishing noise alerted the girl to his presence. She turned around in a swift motion not unlike that of her swishing paintbrush. Her white shirt was coated in a layer of red, and her face and arms were a canvas of their own for her work.

Slowly she made her way towards him, as he did her. Until they were directly in front of one another. He hadn't seen her for a long while, and she him.

He gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders and she pressed her face into his chest, smearing the fresh paint over his dark shirt. She breathed in deep, allowing herself a moment to bask in his presence.

The painter girl ripped her face from his chest and looked up at him. She leaned forward and upward, pulling herself onto her toes to reach her. He bent down and met her in the middle, because he knew she wasn't tall enough to reach him, and they shared a kiss. For some long time they stood locked together.

When they parted, she gently pushed him which was enough to topple his fizzy state, and she went down with him falling on top of his body. She leaned over him and again locked her body to his, pressing herself against him until I felt like they were but one person melded together.

On that night they knew each other for the first time.

He woke up and it was midday. Naked under a blanket, the painter girl had lain herself over him. They had been out in the forest sleeping naked but for a thin blanket to deter and possible passersby who should come upon them whilst they slept.

As he came back to consciousness, the champion was crushed by an immediate realization. An emotion he had not often experienced. A hammer of guilt smashed into him as he lay under the girl he loved, naked.

He shifted under her, causing her to be awoken. Slowly her lazy eyes slid open and looked at him. They stared into his soul and knew. He could feel the shame rising through his body and she nuzzled her head into the nape of his neck.

It felt horrible.

For her sake he let her rest awhile longer on top of him, before they both knew it was time to clean themselves up and dress into something. He tried to think of other things anything, but the image of her was seared into his mind. Was it normal to feel this way?

After they were decent he sat among the flowers and thought until she approached him again. He was more beautiful than ever under the sun her blonde hair was illuminated and brought to shining life. It hurt.

"It's okay," she said, "I'm fine and you're fine."

She sat next to him and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah... last night, I was going to ask you to spend your life together... with me. But after that happened I fear you won't have me. I feel so guilty taking something precious from you like that."

He leaned in and held her again, forcing himself to remain as calm as he could.

In his ear he heard the painter girl say, "Nonsense. I wouldn't waste something like that with someone I wasn't prepared to be with forever.

She leaned away from his arms and wrapped her own around him.

Before she pressed her lips to his again, she whispered, "how could I say no to that? I would like nothing more than to be with you forever."

And So It Was


End file.
